


Here For You

by Misha Berry (MishaDerps)



Series: Contest Winners [9]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Can be read as pre JayTim, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gun Violence, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Protective Jason, Tim Does Not Have a Good Day, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaDerps/pseuds/Misha%20Berry
Summary: When they were children, Jason found Tim all alone and in desperate need of a friend. Jason promised to protect him, no matter what. Having returned from the dead, he intends to make good on that promise.





	Here For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletnight/gifts).



> So this started as a contest prize, but the winner gave me such an amazing idea that I had to expand on it. After a bit of negotiation, here we are! This was honestly a delight to write and I'm so pleased to have it out for others to read.

Jason loved to take long walks through the trees of the Wayne property. He’d grown up in the middle of the concrete jungle that was Gotham City, and he’d never really had time to explore much of nature. Now, he had acres of forest to explore, literally in his backyard. So whenever Jason needed some space away from everyone, Bruce and Alfred and Dick, he went out walking in the woods alone. It was calm, peaceful even, with only the rustle of the leaves and branches and the scurry of small creatures to keep him company.

Today Jason was walking along the old stone wall at the back of the property. It was as old as the property itself really, and there were places where the wall had caved a little. Jason wasn't sure who owned the property on the other side, but he wasn't really tempted to find out. There was plenty to explore on the Wayne’s side of the wall.

Jason passed another part of the fallen wall and was about to continue on when he heard a noise, something that didn't match the rustle of the wind or the birdsong overhead. It sounded like… crying? Jason stopped and tried to figure out where the noise was coming from.

Cautiously, Jason peered through the hole in the wall. He couldn't see anything, but the crying did sound a little closer. Curiosity piqued, Jason crossed over and started looking around, trying to figure out where the crying was coming from. It sounded like a kid maybe?

“Hello?” Jason called. The crying came to an abrupt halt and Jason frowned. It was definitely a kid crying. “Is someone there? Are you hurt?” he called out.

There was a sniffle and a pale face peered out from behind a tree. Jason stared down into what were probably the biggest, bluest, saddest eyes in existence. The kid sniffled again and wiped his face, trying to get rid of the tear tracks across his cheeks.

“Hey kid, you okay?” Jason called, walking closer.

The kid sniffled again and looked up at him like he was wearing a halo. “You’re Jason Todd,” he said in a small voice.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Have we met before?”

The kid flushed pink and ducked his head. “I… I read the society pages sometimes.”

Jason groaned. “Ugh, I hate those things. You saw some dumb interview right? About Bruce Wayne’s charity kid?”

The kid nodded, averting his eyes. “I thought it was well done,” he said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” He looked down at the kid again. “What are you doing out here? You lost?”

The kid rubbed his face again. “No, I live here,” he said.

Jason glanced back at the wall he’d crossed. “Right, you must be our neighbors,” he said, “Why are you out here all alone crying though? You hurt?”

The kid shook his head. “No,” he said, but it sounded so forlorn.

Jason sighed and walked over to sit next to the kid. He was pretty small, Jason figured he was maybe a few years younger than him. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Tim,” the kid said.

“Okay Tim, why are you out here crying?” Jason asked.

Tim didn't answer, hunching up and pulling his knees to his chest, like he was trying to make himself even smaller.  Jason waited for Tim to work up the nerve to talk to him. He’d learned in his work as Robin that kids could be a little reticent, even with other kids. Tim seemed like he was pretty shy, so Jason would have to be patient with him. At the very least he wanted to make sure this kid was going to be okay.

“It’s stupid really,” Tim said quietly after a few minutes. “I don’t know why I even got my hopes up. It’s just a stupid phone call.”

“You want to tell me about it?” Jason asked softly.

Again Tim didn't answer right away. “You know it was my birthday yesterday?” Tim said eventually, “I’m twelve now.”

“Happy birthday,” Jason said, trying not to show his surprise. Tim was pretty small for a twelve year old.

“Thanks,” Tim said sadly, “My parents were supposed to call. They promised they’d call.” Tim shivered and Jason could see tears welling up in his eyes. “I was so sure they’d really call this time. I waited by the phone for hours.” Tears spilled down Tim’s cheeks and he started to sob a little, “They sent an email to their office this morning saying they’d be extending their trip another two weeks. They completely forgot about me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jason said, feeling his heart break for this kid. What kind of parents forgot their own kid’s birthday?

Tim buried his face in his knees. “I don't know why I thought they’d remember this year. They  _ never _ remember. I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey no, that’s not true,” Jason said softly, reaching out and rubbing Tim’s back, “You’re not stupid for wanting your parents to remember your birthday. That’s completely normal.”  _ And probably completely required to be a  _ **_parent_ ** , Jason thought.

Tim continued crying, but Jason just let him. He knew that it was better to let little kids cry it out than try to get them to keep quiet. So he stayed where he was, gently rubbing Tim’s back and letting him sob.

Eventually Tim began to settle down. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeves and took a few deep breaths. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I don’t mean to be such a crybaby.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason said, “If you need to cry some more, I won’t mind.”

Tim smiled a little. “Thanks, I think I’m okay,” he said, “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

“Quit saying sorry,” Jason said, “You’re allowed to take up space you know.”

Tim hunched down a little. “Right, sorry.”

Jason bit back a sigh. “You gonna be okay?” he asked.

Tim nodded. “I will be,” he said, but his eyes were still so sad.

Jason wished he could go to this kid’s parents and give them a piece of his mind. Who the hell forgot about their own son’s birthday? Even Jason’s mom had always done something with him on his birthday, even if it was only to sing him ‘Happy Birthday’ when they couldn't afford to make or buy a cake. He couldn’t imagine what this kid must have felt, waiting by the phone for hours for a call that wouldn’t come.

“If you ever want to talk,” Jason said, “—you can come over to my place. I’m just next door.”

Tim looked up at him, “Really?” he asked.

Jason smiled and nodded, “Sure. Come over any time. Alfie makes some great cocoa.”

Tim looked at Jason like he’d just offered to give him the moon on a string. He broke out into a wide smile and Jason found himself smiling back. He decided then that he was going to look after this kid, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

Tim never came by for cocoa, but they did see each other. They usually met at the same spot, near the wall under the tree, and they would talk for a while. Sometimes they would see each other around, since Bruce and the Drake’s travelled in the same circles. Mostly though, they met each other at their place, in the quiet of the trees, away from the rest of the world. Often Tim would be there first, and he’d often be upset about something or another.

“Sorry,” Tim hiccuped, “Sorry, I don't mean to keep crying to you like a stupid kid.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you're not stupid for crying,” Jason said, his arm wrapped around Tim’s shoulders and pulling him close. “It’s fine to cry.”

Tim sniffed and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. “I just feel like… like they don’t really want me. Like I’m only around when it’s convenient for them. Every other time I’m just in the way.”

Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder and rested his cheek on Tims head. Tim sighed. “I hate feeling like this. I should be glad I have such a nice life. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive.”

Jason carded his fingers through Tim’s silky black hair, “You’re not too sensitive. You’re a great kid Tim, don’t let anyone make you think differently.”

Tim sniffed, “You think so?”

“Of course,” Jason said, “And hey, even if your crappy parents think you’re too sensitive or whatever, I don’t think that, and obviously I’m a better person than they are so you should listen to me and not them.”

Tim giggled. “Yeah sure, okay,” he said.

They stayed huddled together under the tree for a while, trying not to let the wind chill them too badly. Tim almost felt comfortable enough to let himself doze off, Jason’s calloused fingers carding gently through his hair making him drowsy. He didn't think Jason would appreciate him falling asleep on him though, so he resisted the temptation.

“Jason?” Tim asked softly, like he didn't really want to be heard.

“Yeah?” Jason responded.

Tim bit his lip. “Thank you for listening all the time. I know you probably have better things to do.”

Jason thought about the training he was skipping to be out here comforting Tim. “I don’t have anywhere that I need to be that isn’t right here,” Jason said, “I’m always going to be here for you Tim. Don't worry about that, ever.”

Tim smiled and curled into Jason’s side a little more. “Thanks Jason, that really means so much.”

Jason wrapped his arms around Tim, hugging him tightly. “You’re welcome Tim.”

 

* * *

 

Tim was in deep shit and he knew it. Robin had been following a lead on a weapons deal for the Black Mask gang, but he’d bungled his recon and ended up tripping an alarm he hadn’t known about. So now he was tied to a chair in a warehouse, his gear stripped away and Batman in China following some other case. Ten thugs surrounded him, all armed with nice fresh weapons from the deal that went through because of Robin’s screw up.

Currently Tim was trying to keep the head thug talking while he frantically sawed through the ropes tying him to the chair. It was hard to keep up a conversation while simultaneously trying to escape and also keeping an eye on every other thug (and gun) in the room.

“Ey boss, shouldn’t we oughta jus’ kill ‘im and be done with it?” one of the thugs from the corner of the room called, “We don’ really want Bats comin’ down on our heads, right?”

Tim cursed internally. “Honestly, Batman probably isn’t coming,” Robin said, “He’s got other shit to do than follow me around. Besides, you really want him to come back and learn that his partner is dead? That’s a recipe for you all getting your femurs broken.”

“Well, if he’s not going to be back for a while, the trail will go cold, right?” another thug piped up, “Enough time for the heat to go off of us.”

“You know he’s the world’s best detective, right?” Robin said, trying not to sound frantic. “He will figure out who did it, and he will come for you.”

“Nah, Frank’s right,” the head thug said, “Better to just pop you off and be done with it.” He raised his gun and took aim at Tim’s head. “Sorry bird, nothing personal.”

Tim’s heart leapt into his throat as he stared down the barrel of the gun. “No wait—!”

The shot rang through the empty warehouse and Tim jerked back in his chair, feeling a spray of blood across his face. It took him a moment to realize that it was the thug’s blood, not his own. The man had a bloody gushing hole where his left eye used to be. He swayed on his feet for a moment before dropping with a loud thud.

“What the fu—” was all another thug managed before his head exploded sideways in a splatter of brains. The rest of the thugs raised their weapons and started firing into the catwalks, looking for their attacker.

Tim sawed through the last of the rope and tried to get himself free. The ropes broke and he worked on getting the knots around his chest and legs undone. He needed to get out of this fire fight before a stray bullet took him out.

The ropes fell away and Tim crouched as he made his way to the edge of the warehouse. He needed to find his belt and his staff, something to defend himself with in case things went more sideways than they already had.

Tim was nearly to cover when a hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him back. Tim yelped and struggled, but the thug was huge and managed to get him in a headlock, lifting him off the ground and cutting his air off. The barrel of a handgun pressed to his temple and Tim wasn't stupid enough to keep struggling.

“Whoever the fuck you are! Come out or the kid gets it!” the thug shouted. Tim noticed that all the other thugs were either dead or bleeding heavily on the warehouse floor. The tips of Tim’s toes smeared through blood and brain as the thug walked them out a little ways.

The thug dug the barrel into Tim’s head a little harder, burning him with the hot metal. “I fucking mean it!” he shouted, “You want this kid alive? Show your damn face!”

The warehouse remained quiet and for a second Tim was sure that he was about to get his brains made into paint. There was the sound of something heavy dropping from the catwalk onto the ground, and then a figure stepped from the shadows. The Red Hood held a large rifle over his shoulder, walking unconcerned through the pools of blood on the dirty cement floor.

Tim internally cursed again; Batman had warned him not to get involved with anything to do with the Red Hood. The man was extremely dangerous and violent, but he also had an uncanny knack for knowing all of Batman’s tricks. He also seemed to have a deep, vitriolic vendetta against Batman, and Robin was to have nothing to do with Red Hood, full stop.

“Let the kid go,” Red Hood growled, his hand tightening on the rifle.

The thug squeezed Tim’s neck harder, making him gasp and cough. “You’re going to let me walk out of here, or I’m going to splatter this brat’s brains all over your boots.”

Red Hood tapped his finger on the rifle; the dim light glanced off the metal of his helmet, making him seem more menacing somehow. Tim tried to wiggle out of the grip, but the thug was holding him too tightly. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Or, a crazed gunman and another,  _ more _ crazed gunman. He had to do something, and  _ fast _ .

Robin took a big a breath as he was able and slammed the heel of his boot back into the shin of the thug. The thug grunted in pain and Robin used his momentary opportunity to drive his elbow into his gut, pressing until—

The thugs head exploded backwards and Tim yelped as the bullet whizzed past his head. The thug toppled over and the Red Hood lowered his weapon. He took a step towards Tim and Tim leapt backwards, tripping over the corpse and landing on his ass, his hand smearing through the pool of blood that used to be a man’s head. Tim bit down on a whimper and scooted backwards, looking around for some kind of weapon as Red Hood advanced on him. Tim’s hand knocked into a pipe, and on instinct he grabbed it and swung. Red Hood cursed and jumped back, out of his range. Robin leapt up and started running, praying that the man wouldn’t shoot him in the back.

Red Hood chased him for maybe a city block, determined to catch him, not kill him. Tim wasn’t looking forward to being used as bait to lure out Batman, so he tried to shake Red Hood off his tail. Whoever Red Hood was though, he was damned good, and Tim was having trouble losing him. Robin turned into an alley and tried to find something to climb up, preferably something flimsy that might hold his weight, but not the weight of his pursuer. A rusted fire escape looked like a perfect candidate and Tim sprinted for it, reaching it just as Red Hood turned into the alley.

Robin scrambled up the rusted ladder, praying that it wouldn’t hold Red Hood’s larger frame. The whole structure jerked and Tim realized a second too late that it wasn't going to hold  _ his _ weight. The ladder came away from the side of the building with an ungodly shriek and tossed Tim backwards. Robin’s glove, still slick with blood and brains, couldn’t get a grip on the rung and Tim dropped off the ladder to fall twenty feet to the concrete.

“Tim!” Red Hood shouted, running full tilt towards Tim, like he was going to try and catch him.

_ How does he know my name? _ Was Tim’s only thought before he landed on the street, slamming his head against the pavement and blacking out.

 

* * *

 

Tim moaned as he came around, his head throbbing. Keeping his eyes closed, Tim took a few deep breaths, trying to determine how much damage there was to his body. Strangely, Tim could smell something delicious in the air, spices and cooking vegetables. Between the throbs of pain Tim could hear the clatter of a pan on a stove and the chop of a knife on a cutting board. Was Alfred cooking in the Cave? Tim groaned and tried to piece together what happened.

In a painful flash, it came rushing back to Tim; the warehouse, the thugs, Red Hood, the fire escape. Tim’s eyes shot open and he tried to bolt up, but his head span so hard that for a moment Tim felt like he was going to throw up. Tim moaned loudly and clutched his head, feeling like there was a hot lead ball trying to burn it’s way out of his skull.

“Tim? Are you okay?” came a voice to Tim’s left.

Tim cracked his eyes open again and looked towards the source of the voice. A vaguely human shape blurred in and out of his vision. Tim groaned and shut his eyes again, willing his head to stop hurting.

A rough, calloused hand came down on Tim’s shoulder. “Here, drink this,” the voice said, “It’ll help you feel better.”

Tim looked up and managed to get his eyes to focus on a glass of water. Tim took the glass and sipped it slowly, still vaguely aware of his stomach rolling in his gut. A bag of frozen peas was pressed to the back of his head and he sighed, feeling instantly better. Tim stayed where he was for a while before he remembered he should probably be figuring out where the hell he was and who was taking care of him. Blinking his eyes open once more, Tim lifted his head and got his first look at the person so gently holding the peas to his head.

Jason Todd was looking down at him with naked concern on his face. He repositioned the peas and looked into Tim’s eyes. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Tim blinked a few times. “Am I dead?” he asked.

Jason looked alarmed. “No? Of course not Tim. I’d never let that happen to you.”

“Okay,” Tim said, “Then I’m hallucinating, because you’re not Jason Todd. Jason Todd is dead.”

“I was dead,” Jason said, furrowing his brow slightly. “But then I got better.”

Maybe it was because of the concussion he surely had, but Tim couldn't help the tears well up in his eyes. “Jason,” he almost whimpered, “You’re alive.”

Jason smiled down at him and pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m alive,” he said, “I came back for you.”

Tim whimpered and nuzzled into Jason as best he could with his head still throbbing. Jason held the bag of peas in one hand and rested his other on Tim’s ribs. Tim clutched at Jason’s shirt like a tether, as though Jason would float away like a dream.

The smell of smoke filled the air and Jason swore. He pulled away from Tim gently and put the bag of peas in his hands, then got up to rush to the kitchen nook.

“Okay, it’s a bit burnt on the bottom,” Jason said as he scraped Spanish fried rice out of a beat up skillet. “It’s fine, the rest of it’s good.”

Tim lifted the bag of peas to his head again, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He glanced around again and saw the tell-tale helmet that was resting on the counter, and the pile of weapons in another corner. Tim’s heart stuttered to a stop.

“You’re the Red Hood,” Tim said, “You killed all those people.”

“I  _ scraped _ all that  _ scum _ off the streets,” Jason hissed viciously. He took a deep breath and turned back to Tim. “I know you're confused right now Tim, but trust me, I’m doing this for the greater good.”

Jason set down a steaming plate next to Tim on a little crate that was standing in for a bedside table. He sat down next to Tim on the bed and reached for the bag of peas again. Tim leaned back, away from Jason’s hand.

Jason stilled. “I’m not going to hurt you Tim. I’d never hurt you.”

“You’ve been trying to kill Bruce,” Tim said, “You’ve nearly killed him multiple times.”

Jason put his hand on Tim’s knee. “But not you, never you Tim,” he said, “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Tim asked, “What the hell from?”

“From  _ him _ ,” Jason snarled, suddenly standing and pacing around. “It’s bad enough that he got  _ me _ killed, but then he had to go and rope you into it. You’re just an innocent kid and  _ he _ had to go and  _ corrupt _ you.”

“Bruce didn't corrupt me Jason,” Tim said, “I became Robin of my own free will. I wanted this.”

Jason looked at Tim sadly. “Oh Tim, I know you think that, but you don’t know him like I do. He’s like— like a  _ fungus _ , he gets into everything and he’s impossible to get out. He  _ ruins _ everything he touches. He got me killed and now he’s going to get you killed. It’s only a matter of time.”

Tim shook his head even though it made his brain scream. “Bruce isn’t going to get me—”

“Yes he will!” Jason shouted suddenly, grabbing a glass from the counter and throwing it against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. Tim yelped and covered his head, shutting his eyes in case any glass flew his way.

“Shit, Tim I’m so sorry,” Jason said, demeanor changing in an instant. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I’d  _ never _ hurt you.” Jason sat down on the bed and pulled Tim into a tight hug, his calloused fingers carding gently through his hair. “It’ll never happen again Tim, I promise.”

Despite Tim’s fear, he couldn't help but sink into Jason’s arms. He felt like he was twelve again, surrounded by the strong, safe arms of his hero, his Robin. No matter how old he got, he’d never stopped missing Jason’s soothing voice and his rough fingers in his hair. So much of this was wrong, but Tim couldn't help the part of him that was singing for joy. Jason had been the first person who’d ever really been nice to him. He was Tim’s first friend, his first crush, and when he died it had cut Tim to his core. To have him back, to have a second chance, Tim didn't know what he was going to do, but he’d be damned if he didn't try to make this work, to try and fix this.

“It’s okay now Tim,” Jason said softly, resting his cheek on Tim’s head. “I promised you didn't I? I’m always going to be here for you Tim. Don't worry about that, ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write. I love the idea of a crazy pit-rabid Jason being super protective of Tim. I'm not actually a huge fan of JayTim, but the way this relationship would play out in this AU is interesting. You could read this as brotherly or pre-relationship, whatever suits your fancy.


End file.
